OverMaster's Little Crummy Corner of Sub-Par Writing

Hasegawa Chisame stared incredulously at the girl who had just appeared in her room.

She wore a simple enough, yet rather stylish dress in light purple, white and pink, with a hood on her head and a long cape decorated with floral motifs attached to her shoulders. Her eyes were quiet and stoic, behind glasses that were much smaller than Chisame's but conveyed a similar air of seriousness and dry calm. Well, not that Chisame was much calm right now, but at the same time, she was too startled to really strat freaking out yet, either.

"I am," said the young woman who had just appeared, with all the air of someone who just didn't want to be there at all, "Servant Assassin. Are you my Master?"

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Saotome Haruna gasped, more than a bit thrilled and rathed excited-- no, both things are not always the same, even if they often are-- at the sight of a small girl who had just appeared out of nowhere in her manga studio, after her clubmates had left to leave her handling her deadline. The deadline was not important now, though, as this girl barely any taller than Nodoka, and with no much of an advantage in build either, looked at her with carefully guarded large dark eyes, the tiny octopus perched on her right shoulder staring at Haruna, and most specifically at Haruna's chest, with an expression that more than matched Haruna's own on its simple-lined round face.

The strange girl was simply lovely, with the appearance of a traditional doll, pale skin and jet black hair. Even her black, red and white kimono, while snug enough around her slender boy, was as old fashioned as they came... but the same could not be said about the large tool shaped like a huge paintbrush attached to her back.

"Greetings," the visitor, for Haruna could not bring herself to think of her as an intruder, bowed respectfully at her. "You may address me as Servant Foreigner. I ask of you, would you happen to be my Master?"

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Murakami Natsumi gasped and backed away quickly from this strange man who had suddenly appeared to her while she was alone in the Mahora Academy theater, cleaning up after another session of rehashal.

"Hmm?" the tall, roguishly handsome man smiled at the small young woman's evident panic. Then he fell into a sweeping, grand bowing with a flamboyant wave up of a hand. "Oh, I see! My sudden entrance has startled you, as it should, for I see you are a fair maiden of great purity and innocence, to match your amiable appearance. Fret not, however, my Master, for only you may be the hand that has brought me upon this world. Since alas, who else stands here, to claim the privilege of such a deed?!" he stood straight, gesturing even more dramatically, and scaring the freckled girl even moreso. "Indeed, I shall refer you as the Master of I, Servant Caster, during this Holy Grail War, my young mistress! The stage is set for our greatest joint triumph, and what better venue than this palace of arts?!"

"W-W-wah-War?!!" Natsumi cried out frantically. "What, war, wah, what in the world...?!"

--

Izumi Ako only could stare, helplessly, at the tall woman who had simply appeared out of thin air before her in the infirmary, towering over her with her pale, sterile visage and her impressively jutting bustline.

This woman, whoever she was, and Ako was too afraid to ask, only looked back at her for a moment, enough as to verify she was not dirty or injured. Then she looked all around the room. "These sanitary conditions," she flaly stated then, "are not completely unacceptable, but neither enough for the care of soldiers during a mass conflict. We shall fix that shortly, but first I must ask whether you are the one who summoned me or not."

"I.." Ako began articulating something at last, "I don't even know who are you, Ma'am! Wh-Where did you come from, the door was locked, I was about to--!"

"I am Servant Berserker, naturally," the woman's sharp, but also blunt eyes dropped back on her immediately, and Ako felt like suddenly suffocating under the weight of an anvil. "Logic dictates you must be my Master, since there is no one else in sight, plus you wear the outfit of our sacred duty. It will be a pleasure working with you, I am sure. Let us save all lives offered in this War, even if we are to snuff them in the bud for it."

"I, I don't understand any of what you are saying, at all!"

"It would seem you don't. Sit down and I'll take your temperature. For some reason that escapes me, you appear to be under the effects of some manner of abrupt nervous shock..."

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Guilt by Association.

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Based on the works of Type-Moon and Akamatsu Ken.

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Part One of Two.